Work Text:
Someone was humming off-tune, drawing Luis closer and closer to the small ledge like a sailor to a hoarse siren. It sounded awfully like a Clash song. How did it go again? His old co-worker Frances was obsessed with that old british band, often fighting over the rights to the communal stereo in the Lab 6 lounge. All too often he'd catch him drumming his pen against his files, deh-duh duh duh, I fought the law, and the law won, I fought the law and the- he peered over the side. Two glowing eyes stared back.
"Oi."
"JODER-" It was a mere reflex at this point to unholster his Red9 and aim it at the- oh. It's him. Luis faltered, swiftly putting his pistol away as he recognized the only other sane person in the village.
"Ya idjit, it's me Spaniard." Past the dark-purple scarf, the other man's eyes were squinting at him as if saying don't be daft.
The only reason that Luis knew that alien turn of phrase was after his first encounter with the strange man. It had resulted with him laying prone on the ground and the other man twirling his precious Red9. The Merchant was merciful enough to casually offer a gloved hand to Luis, once the shock of being thrown over a purple-clad shoulder had worn off. The phrase was muttered half-heartedly as the odd man helped brush off the dirt and hay from Luis' less-than-graceful fall and Luis hadn't stopped thinking of it since. He hadn't stopped thinking about a lot of other things he had done, which had lead him to this point, so he was mentally hauling quite a collection now.
Luis shook his head clear of the past and recovered his footing, lest he take yet another fall onto his face. He plastered on a sardonic grin as he looked down at the Merchant.
"Ah yes, of course, the plaga-infested arms dealer. Give me a heart-attack on purpose why don't you?"
There came a quiet cacophony of bags and their contents jingling together as the odd man shrugged. "Can't help my appearance. 'Tis the way of things."
Luis stared at the merchant and his bulky attire, dressed to the nines in bags, with his little pop-up island of rpgs, guns and the purple flame dancing cheerily against the stained canvas of his rapshackle tent.
Despite Luis being a former researcher who had once dedicated his life to parasitic lifeforms and their effects on humans, the Merchant was still a mystery. A benevolent anomaly in the middle of this hostile environment. But Luis was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, even if the horse's eyes glowed occasionally and gave out strange requests like finding red ribbons and attaching them to five different signposts. Again, gift horses schmift horses.
"...Right. Right I'll come down to you so we can talk business mano a mano."
He carefully jumped off the ledge to properly haggle. The Merchant chuckled before flashing his wares, "You like what you see, Spaniard?" with the grace of a belly-dancer he started to shift the rocket head attached to his belt so it made an entrancing circling motion. Luis found it captivating, but really even he couldn't trade a few pesetas and the local greenery for a warhead. He wasn't as silver-tongued as his abuelo once was.
"I do, but I figure that pretty piece behind you is more to my liking at the moment." He gestured at the rifle behind the Merchant's shoulder.
"A good choice spaniard, but eh, best show me your goods first." Luis turned out his pockets. The pesetas, some of the mountain herbs, and few dirty velvet blues that he'd pried off with his knife during his time in the caves. The Merchant tsked. "Not the best haul there. I have to admit..."
"Alright, I also have-" Luis paused, putting the small pile on the counter, before starting to fiddle with his right hand. He gingerly swiveled the smallest ring off his little finger. A red gem glinted against the burnished gold of its fitting. He held it for moment longer before adding it to his sale. The Merchant gently took it from the meagre pile to inspect the fine workings on the side.
"Hmm, ruby set in gold, nice filagree- what does it say?" His eyes were trailing the small inscription on the inside of the ring. Luis swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat.
"Haz el bien y no mires a quien – 'Do good, and don’t look at whom'. It's an old family ring. Used to be my mother's apparently, before my abuelo inherited it back." The Merchant was still for half a minute, pondering the small piece of Luis' life in his hand, before he gently took Luis' own and slid the ring back on.
"I think I can make an exception this time. Since you've paid me handsomely already."
"And how did I do that?"
"With knowledge of course. Never did try learning spanish in school, so I only know bare-bones of the locals yelling. Handy that."
Luis was speechless. He regained his footing when the Merchant placed the rifle in his hands.
"Alright mate?"
"Yes, yes, thank-you.' Luis nodded as he shifted the rifle in his new back holster. It looked similar to the one in his memories, an occasional early morning spent in the forest waiting for a deer to appear in abuelo's sights, their breaths floating into the cold dewy undergrowth. He remembers the content silence the forest held back then, finding it near hard to believe he'd been hiding in the same one that once held so many childhood moments. Any colour indicating life had been bled out of the forest behind them, leaving an infested rotten husk. He ignored the grey tendrils of trees swaying to look back to the other man.
The Merchant appraised his valued (and only) customer, his eyes flaring for a second. "Ah, a fine addition to your collection, 'Hidalgo'."
"Hah, some knight I turned out to be."
"Hey, sometimes it's not the weapon you wield, but how you wield it. You get me?"
"I uh, I get you."
"Good lad. Have a flash bang on the house. Helps to keep the locals busy, but I guess you knew that already."
"Thanks, and what do I call you?"
"Merchant is fine."
"Really? Not Henry, George, or Arthur-"
"I ain't named after no king, and if I was I wouldn't lark on about it would I?" He shifted, seemingly annoyed. People never asked questions outside of what they were buying or selling, it seemed.
"Well I can't just call you something er, functional or whatnot. You are still... person-shaped. And I'll admit it is good to be able to talk to anyone with a mouth to reply back these days without them swearing loudly and chasing me with farm equipment. Not fun."
"...'S Reggie."
"Reggie?"
"Reg if you're in a hurry, all right? Don't use it all casual now. You survive this little village of horrors and you can use it all you like."
"...aha! So your full name is Reginal-" A fingerless mitt muffled his mouth. The Merchant leaned in, smelling of worn leather and gun oil.
"It's Reggie, mate. I won't say it again."
"Got it."
"I do have another offer. A fair transaction, if you will."
"Alright, have at it."
"You answer a question, and I give you the rest of my meal. Managed to grill some fish. Not from the local lake, mind you. It's no fish'n'chips but it'll fill you right up."
Luis' stomach tried to answer for him, grumbling at the mention of food.
"Fine. Fire away, 'Reggie'."
"Hah. Last time I saw your mug, you were passing through the front courtyard at Dracula's castle. How'd you get past that clown and his guard dogs? You were having a laugh mate, I had a right old time getting past the local inquisition meself."
Luis resisted the urge to lift an eyebrow. He found it much more intriguing how Reggie had managed to spontaneously appear, between the island and their current position, but gift horses schmift horses. The last thing that he needed today was his last source of near-human contact leaving because his over-curious brain got the best of him again.
"Oye, believe you me this hasn't been an amusing situation." An understatement of the century, he mocked himself. "Once upon a time my abuelo worked as a gamekeeper of sorts for the castellan, before the being rich and noble really got into their brains. Before small, dark and angry came along. He knew all the desire trails, the nooks of the castle, the works. And then he told me all about them, when I wasn't busy with my chemistry set. Sure there was more demonic chanting and medieval weapons to get past this time, but it was a cakewalk compared to the island." Luis suppressed a shudder, trying not to think of the white lumpy humanoids running amok in his former co-worker's lab.
The Merchant nodded to himself with a mildly impressed look on his face. He leaned sideways to pull a small stool to the counter and sat on it with a small grunt, before tilting his head slightly. Luis could hear the curl of suspicion in his voice as Reggie asked, "But you were infected, weren't ya? And somehow, in spite of all the fuckery, you cured yourself. If I was you I'd be at the pub already, toasting my freedom over a pint."
"Well you're not me. And if you're getting to a point you know-”
"Why're ya still here? You've more than proven that you're a slippery one, and yet it's almost like you're... waiting."
Luis couldn't help but abruptly sit down on the cold earth beneath him. It felt like someone had cut the very few strings that had been holding him up. He patted his jacket absent-mindedly. He knew he had a crumpled packet of smokes somewhere, curse his many pockets.
"...Mierda. You know, I saw my neighbor yesterday. Dolores. Old widow, I mean she was old when I left so god knows how old she is-was now. Kept giving me her grandson's hand-me downs, but always snuck in a new pair of shoes. Said my feet deserved good shoes. Yesterday she jumped on me and tried to stab me in the head with a kitchen knife, and there wasn’t time to reload, so I just grabbed the nearest thing which was a rock and-" It took him a little while to light his cigarette, he seemed to keep missing the flame somehow. The Merchant merely waited for him to continue, letting him exhale a plume of smoke into the brisk night air.
"I. I have been running for too long, perhaps. From a number of things that I've had a hand in creating. Maybe it's time for me to start paying my dues, once I find my exit." Luis didn't feel the need to mention the small vial in his jacket. "And honestly, after a little infection myself, I'm not entirely sure if I can leave yet, without any... surprises. Personally, I like to call it 'testing the ecological validity of the Luis variant', but it's a work in progress."
Reggie was quiet for a moment before answering. "Oh. Well you know you're fine."
Luis did not sputter often. Was definitely not doing it now, not him, the esteemed ex-scientist. "Okay, Mister Merchant, how can you know that?"
Those two eyes flickered briefly, before fully fixing on his own. "Because you know what it felt like. That feeling of being whole, being complete. Knowing you were never going to be alone ever again. The cat's pyjamas. And you're certainly not praising the glory of the good lord in his house at the moment."
"Heh, well then, if you know the plagas workings so intimately, what with the glowing eyes and"- Luis gestured to all of him-"all that going on, how are you not kissing Saddler's boots right now?"
"Because I'm me. And ignorance is bliss. Right, Hidalgo?"
"...not like it used to be Reggie." Luis conveniently left out that if he had his lab back in working order he could probably figure out Reggie's nature in a few days. He doubted though that he would earn any favors from the dealer afterwards. The man seemed to be in a state of homeostasis and at ease with the sporadic not-tapetum lucidum. Gift horses schmift horses. He swayed a little as he got up, dusting his jeans off absent-mindedly.
"Hm." Reggie frowned slightly. He searched Luis' face for something, apparently finding it when his eyes softened a little. He tilted his head to a lump of fabric in the corner of his tent, nestled between a footstool and a pile of shotgun ammo. "Looks like someone could do with thirty winks."
"Are you sure? Wouldn't want to interrupt your beauty sleep."
"Real flatterer you are. But nah, you've been running ragged. Can't have my best customer too knackered to miss out on my wares, can I?"
"Ah, who am I to say no to such comforts. Though I might take a while to settle."
Luis was out the moment his head laid on the musty fabric. The Merchant couldn't help but smile a little fondly. People often looked younger in their sleep and the hidalgo was no exception. The expressiveness of his face smoothed out into a poignant canvas, becoming somber in its stillness. It wasn't hard to see the solemn little boy sitting poised for a photograph, his small body leaning against his grandfather. The Merchant kept watch as the moon travelled across the sky, and the hidalgo dreamt of nothing but deep forests lush with green and his fellow knight walking by his side, as the trees curled grey and withered in their wake.